


Lizzie's fault?

by sasijia



Category: Goblin Market - Christina Rossetti
Genre: Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:23:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasijia/pseuds/sasijia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura has eaten the goblin merchants' fruits and is now facing punishment.<br/>This text deals with Lizzie's fears, thoughts and her self-imposed guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lizzie's fault?

**Author's Note:**

> Intended as an assignment for our poetry class, I have decided to share this work with you.

It is not my fault. That's what I keep telling myself. The seeds for the forbidden fruit have been planted too long ago. Ever since that day, she has excitedly been awaiting the moment the flower would come into full bloom. How can this tender, sweet looking deliciousness be so rotten on the inside? Shouldn't she have known better?  
It's not my fault.  
They call me the "good sister"; the silver maiden. The unblemished girl who cannot be enraptured. The flawless pinion in the ruthlessly constructed machinery we call society. I function. I fit in. I have to! - It's debilitating.  
But if I am the good sister, does this imply that she is bad? Can the value of a person be defined solely by their ability to resist temptation? After all, she's always been an audacious girl. Always giggling and running and chasing after adventure. Although she never failed to fulfill the minimal domestic expectations, she could not be held back from additional stimulation for too long. She lived to love and loved to live.

It's not my fault. I have to keep telling myself that. If I say it often enough, I might eventually believe it.

I knew that these bizarre creatures with their sinful cries would drag her down with them. We have all seen it before - but never actually thought it would happen to anyone who is in any way close to us. But it did. And I knew who she was; how she was. I knew that she could be tempted easily. So why did I leave her behind when it all became too much for me?  
Day after day, I see her sitting idly at the window - letting her gaze wander absentmindedly over the brookside. Instead of offering hope, the same sun that once nurtured the devilish seeds, now deridingly burns down on her weak frame.  
Night after night, I have to listen to the atrocious cries of the wicked men my sister can no longer hear - fully aware that the disgust in my expression is yet another knife in her yearning heart. She is decaying. Every day, every minute, every second could be her last.  
But it's not my fault. 

I tried to warn her, take her back home with me. Tell her that twilight and the company it brings is dangerous.  
What else should I have done?  
What else could I have done?  
I cannot let the others know. She would be branded an outcast; ignored and hated by everyone. But she doesn't deserve to be treated this way. We must appear as proper as ever and veil her shameful suffering with all our might. I shall not rest until I have figured out a way to save her from her anguish. 

If this means that I have to meet the devilish merchants at the gates of hell and fight them to death, so be it. 

It's not my fault. Although I feel my lips forming these words, they somehow never seem to reach my conscience.


End file.
